Hanging On: Post 'Unstoppable' Wrap Up
by CD1996
Summary: When the adrenaline subsides:  A bit of character development, a lot of H/C fluff, and a whole lot of cheese.  Absolution, in a way the movie did not provide, and an explanation of how Will and Darcy began communicating again.


**_A/N: People, I claim insanity on this one. It's been in my head since I went to a $5-before-noon showing over Thanksgiving and was, surprisingly, entertained - but disappointed in the 'aftermath'. So. As a bit of further character-development, some absolution, and a whole lot of cheese, I sketched this out. I just couldn't leave the opportunity to not only explain, but help absolve in a way the movie did not, how Will and Darcy managed to look 'as if everything was just suddenly fine between them'. _**

**Hanging On**

**An **_**Unstoppable**_** fanfiction drabble**

Unable to tear his eyes from the console, staring unblinkingly at the steadily decreasing digits of Triple Seven's speedometer, Will Colson had yet to peel his death grip from the controls even as the train gave a final shudder and came to a merciful, resounding halt.

It was the chime and subsequent vibration of his cell indicating a 'missed call' that broke him out of his haze and sent him fumbling with numb hands for his pocket.

Darcy.

His wife had tried to reach him. His _wife_ had attempted to call _him_. And suddenly, Will realized he was shaking, trembling, with adrenaline and relief and inexplicable emotion…Darcy had broken the unbearable weeks of silence and unreturned calls and pleas.

He tucked his head against his chest and choked back a sob. He was a lucky son of a bitch. He could not – _would not – _take this chance for granted. When he raised his chin to blink back the wetness with a heavy sigh, Will noticed for the first time the swarm of emergency vehicles and personnel and the reporters rapidly descending upon the silenced train's form.

Levering his body on any available support surface, Will tried to not to howl as pain lanced from his injured foot, throbbing up his right leg and causing his stomach to churn nauseously – and hobbled out of the red metal beast's cab. His stomach pitched and heaved, forcing him to stop and grip the railing, vomiting over the edge of the tracks below where, thankfully, no one had been witness to such an embarrassing moment. They were all swarming on the other side, waiting for him to come down.

Gasping and swiping at his mouth with his dirty sleeve, Will gripped at the support bars leading down the massive engine's steps and hopped backwards into the amassing people. It was Ned Oldham's hands that found his back and eased him down to the last stair, where Will allowed himself to collapse as the older man introduced himself and shouted on about "precision" and "good job, kid!" and was entirely too enthusiastic for Will's pounding head; but, he nodded, smiling wanly and shaking Ned's hand, looking over his left shoulder, searching…

He found Frank still positioned atop that final fuel tanker he couldn't quite clear as he had raced atop the cars, now leaning against the hatch rail and gazing back at him intently, a strange mix of pride and gratitude written in his handsome features. Frank bowed his head slightly and pointed towards Will in salute, to which Will could not help but break into a pleased and proud grin, pumping his fist toward the sky in reply. They'd made it. They'd stopped Triple Seven. They'd averted disaster. And they lived to tell the tale. He could take a sign when it was so blatant.

Will glanced briefly down the row of vehicles as another police cruiser joined the fray, his hands suddenly clenching around the cold banisters as he recognized his wife's blonde head and the much shorter towhead that burst from the door and bolted towards him, shouting, "Dad!" Will felt his eyes widen disbelievingly, and in that moment he forgot about the pain and bodily protest, hauling himself upright to desperately scoop up his son and meet his seemingly no-longer-estranged wife's frantic embrace.

They clung fiercely to one another, the past in the past for just that moment, the rest of the world forgotten, muffled promises and 'I love you; I missed you so much' exchanged. It was a cathartic reunion that nothing should have interrupted. But, like a reminder unbidden, all of a sudden Will felt his knees give way and his vision grayed around the edges.

Darcy cried out in surprise as he wilted against her, and despite her sudden grip on his elbow, he would have taken her and his son out if not for the pair of paramedics that suddenly had him by the shoulders and were lowering him to a stretcher. Will groaned and had to close his eyes, the sky spinning above him and his body growing cold. He might have been shivering again, but he wasn't sure. Above him, voices were calling, some still ringing with the thrill of narrowly-averted disaster, others barking orders…

"Will!"

There was a roaring in his ears that was all too similar to the sound he'd been hearing for the past hour, and Frank's voice, and Darcy's, and maybe Cody's, too…he tried to reassure his wife, but his mouth felt full of cotton and someone out of his line of sight was wrestling against his layers of clothing. He was suddenly so confused and so very tired that he couldn't even flinch when something stung him in the hand and something heavy was flung over him and he was moving…

"CHECK."

Pop.

"Check."

Will blinked a few times and realized he was no longer lying alongside the still form of Triple Seven, but inside what was apparently an ambulance parked near the tracks. He felt pressure constricting his hand, and found Darcy clutching tightly to the one not obstructed by an IV line. His fingers twitched in hers and she gasped.

"Will, oh—thank God," she breathed, softly.

He reluctantly pulled his hand from hers to remove the mask covering his mouth, and she settled on stroking the short hairs back from his still clammy forehead. He was allowed a brief moment to relax into the touch before he became acutely aware of what must have revived him. Pain thrummed through his foot as the paramedic at the aft of the cruiser finished securing a particularly gawdy, yellow, boot-like pack around his leg with thick Velcro strips. It felt bulky, heavy, and very cold.

"Morning, Sleeping Beauty," came a gently heckling – and oddly comforting – voice from outside the vehicle. "How you doin' up there?"

Will blearily focused on Frank Barnes' grinning mug and managed a discomfited chuckle as he let his head drop back against the stretcher. "Oh, God. How long was I out?"

Frank scrunched his face up in an expression of 'no big deal', tucking his recently used cell phone in his pocket and shaking his head to accompany the paramedic's reply of "Not long. Although, you're lucky you responded quickly. You were entering a pretty nasty stage of shock when you went down. Welcome back, Mr. Colson."

Will nodded solemnly. "Thanks."

"I want you to finish out this bag of fluids and give the pain meds time to fully circulate before moving around. Can you rate your pain for me: 'one' indicating 'no pain at all' and 'ten' for the 'worst pain you can imagine'?"

Will swallowed, squinting up at the paramedic and trying really hard to take inventory, all the while fighting a surprisingly overwhelming urge to simply close his eyes and drift to sleep under Darcy's soothing caress. He was beginning to think he'd never feel it again…

"Baby, you still with us?"

He almost startled, shaking his head slightly. "Yeah…yeah. Five. Six, maybe. Hurts, but not as bad as before."

The paramedic frowned. "Alright," he acknowledged, injecting a small plunger of liquid into the IV port. "I've got permission to hit you with just a tad more to take the edge off. I also started a wide-spectrum antibiotic to help ward off early infection. You're splinted and wrapped in cooling packs to try and minimize the swelling for now, but crush injuries are rather serious. As soon as this press conference is over, you're on your way to Blessing for surgery."

"Press conference?" Will repeated, thickly, even as he registered the sound of microphone checks and noticed cameramen rushing past outside.

Darcy reached down to squeeze his hand again, and Frank had the grace to look slightly abashed, himself. The EMT was quick to respond with, "The general public just watched the two of you take down that beast out there on live feeds. City-wide evacuations were in progress and the entire area was preparing for a monumental disaster. You're heroes. And you'd better bet there are a lot of questions."

Will squirmed slightly, feeling uncomfortable. His head felt rather fuzzy and he really didn't feel like playing nice with reporters. He wasn't cut out for that sort of public-appearance shit.

"Don't worry, hot shot," Frank piped in. "I think Ned is more than willing to embrace the cameras. He's been fielding reporters since you left the train."

Will detected the hint of mock incredulity in Frank's voice, and shared a smile of understanding with him. Neither one of them really cared to revel in the limelight, and it seemed they had a more than willing spokesperson. Frank held Will's gaze for a moment longer, then surreptitiously glanced towards Darcy, nodding curtly and stepping away from the ambulance to answer his phone once more. The paramedic was busy radioing his stats in to the nearby hospital.

_I hear you, Frank._

Will closed his eyes and swallowed, reaching toward his wife. "Darcy…" He felt her hand close over his and press it against her cool cheek. "_I'm sorry,_" he murmured desperately, his eyebrows drawing together as his face crumpled with the past weeks' agony. "I'm so sorry…I was _wrong…"_

"Will, you didn't do anything _wrong_ –"

His eyes snapped open. "No," he whispered vehemently, shaking his head. "No. I was hot-headed and stupid. I scared you, Darcy. That's _wrong_. But, please – _please_ know, it never even crossed my mind to _hit_ you…I just wanted to stop you from turning away again—"

"—Will—"

"—And I didn't use my head when I confronted Alan. I was jealous. _Hell_, I'm still jealous, when I shouldn't be…Darcy, what does that mean? We need to talk about it. _I_ need to talk about it…"

"Will, stop."

He did – her tone was firm, final. Much like when she stood her ground with Cody's begging. His mouth opened and closed as he fought the unusual urge to continue rambling, but her hands were back, framing his face and easing him back against the stretcher.

"Honey, I hear you. We do need to talk. We do need to sort out what's happened between us, on _both sides_ – not just you; me, too – but, baby, please…can we talk about it later, when you're not high as a kite?"

Will gaped, his bewildered "Wha—?" catching in his throat for several long seconds before he blinked and finally sank into the ridiculous excuse for a pillow behind him with a snicker. It took another moment for him to dissolve into a fit of soft laughter before Darcy followed suit and rested her forehead against his as he nodded beneath her in acquiescence.

"Yeah, you're right. I do feel kind of foggy right now. Later, then, we have to face this," he admitted, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He opened his eyes to gaze back into hers, only a nose-length away. "I love you. Blitzed or not. I love you. Are we going to be okay?"

Darcy smiled tremulously, but nodded, threading her hands through his hair reassuringly. "Yes, Will. I think we will be."

They remained enveloped in one another, the agony in Will's leg settling into a subdued throbbing, until the AWVR Reps came to claim him, ushering his battered body – crutches and all – into the swarm of reporters and cameras. But Frank's approving expression, and the pride and love on his family's faces gave him the strength to hang on. Gave him a _reason_ to hang on.

Maybe he could put things back together after all.


End file.
